Recoil
by Some Totally Original Username
Summary: AU-ish. Hector was proud of his family - his father, Dean, his aunts Jo and Charlie, his uncle Cas, his Grandma Ellen, his brother Timothy, and his sister Ivette. Everything is perfect, until Ivette is kidnapped from her classroom, and all signs point to demons. One mishap later, Hector and Timothy look up and find themselves face-to-face with their 34-year-old father.
1. Chapter 1

Friday, August 23, 2013. 11:23 PM. Somewhere outside of the New Orleans French Quarter. In the blink of an eye, Sam Winchester was truly, permanently, and irrevocably… dead.

The word left a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. Dead. His baby brother was a cadaver lost somewhere in Louisiana. He hadn't had time to find the body, and when he went back for it, it was gone. He couldn't even fucking _bury_ him properly, like he deserved. He hated himself; for living, for running, for dragging Sammy into it. God, Sam… He deserved more, so much more.

Dean was holed up in an apartment somewhere. Ellen and Jo had bought it for him as a consolation, paying the bills and keeping his fridge stocked. He was perfectly content to just waste away on the couch, staring at the TV. He'd never appreciated just how awful daytime television was until now.

"_Jawan… You ARE the father!_"

He smirked a bit as the hefty woman from the Projects proceeded to do all kinds of flips and dancing, screaming and yelling at the man who looked like he was on Death Row. He'd kind of liked being Claire's dad. It made him feel like he'd done something right for once. Of course, she'd tried to kill him, and then Sam killed her, and it was once again fucked up beyond all belief, like everything he came into contact with. But still. It had been nice.

_Knock, knock._

Dean glanced up at the door, considering if he should open it. "Dean Winchester?" A man's muffled voice called. "This is CPS, open the door, please."

_CPS?_ Why would CPS want to talk to him? Did they have him mixed up with someone else? God forbid one of the kids that lived around him was being hurt. If that was the situation… well, child abusers were close enough to demons and monsters for Dean to make an exception and put his skills to use.

Dean did some speed-cleaning in the apartment, made himself look decently presentable, and opened the door. "Yeah?" He asked, his voice cracking from its little use. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Dean Winchester?" The clean-cut suit in front of him asked. The man looked like he'd been steam-pressed, with a crisp suit, a briefcase, and a stern face that couldn't be older than maybe twenty-eight.

Dean glanced him up and down. "Yes sir, I am." He said.

The man nodded, holding up the ID hanging from the lanyard around his neck. "My name is Agent Jaime Gonzalez, may I come in?"

Dean nodded and stepped aside to let him inside. "Yeah, knock yourself out." He said with a yawn.

The man nodded and entered, his eyes critically scanning the small apartment. "Please, sit." Dean said, gesturing to an armchair across from his couch and flopping down on it. "Can I offer you something? Beer? Water?"

Gonzalez shook his head smiled tightly as he sat. Before Dean could ask why CPS was there, he took out a folder and handed it to him. Dean glanced up at the man, then took it and flicked it open. As soon as he did, his heart stopped as three familiar women smiled at him from photos, little blips under them identifying them. _Oh no. _"Do you know these women, Mr. Winchester?" Gonzalez asked.

Dean wet his lips and managed to nod. "Yeah. I…" He cleared his throat. "I do. Old… acquaintances."

Gonzalez took back the folder. "You and I know that they were more than acquaintances." He said.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I've made a lot of mistakes." He said. "But now my baby brother is dead, and I couldn't do anything to help him, so the last thing I want is old girlfriends coming back to bite me in the ass."

Gonzalez didn't even bat an eyelash. Dean wasn't surprised; CPS saw a lot of shit. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss." He said flatly. "But this isn't about some old ex-girlfriends looking for revenge. This is about three beautiful children whose mothers trusted the children's father to step up and take care of them when they passed."

Silence.

"I…" Dean ran his hands over his face and blinked owlishly. "They… I… What? Run that by me again?"

"Those three women had much the same story. They got pregnant, went looking for the father, couldn't find him. They, being worried and desperate for their child's father, went to New York to pass around the guy's photo and ask if anyone had seen him. They ran into each other and became close friends, then came to CPS, thinking that we could help." Gonzalez leaned forward and clasped his hands on his knees. "They passed away in a car accident three weeks ago. We took blood tests, isolated common DNA, and traced it to you."

Dean sat in stunned silence, his groggy brain trying to wrap around the concept. "… There has to be a mistake."

Gonzalez's eyes flashed with what looked like anger as he leaned forward. "Oh, there's no mistake. We ran tests against every database we had access to, and you were the perfect match for all three of them. You're not quite as good as covering your tracks as you think you are." Disgust creeped its way onto his face. "I can see that these women were mistaken. There are three children with no one else but you in the world, and you don't even remember their mothers's names. Maybe they're better off in foster care, where someone wants them." He stowed his folder away and stood up, walking for the door. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Winchester. Have a nice-."

"The blonde's name was Carolyn."

Gonzalez froze.

"I met her at a nightclub in St. Louis. She was twenty-four years old, had bright green eyes, and knew every Elvis song in the world. She wouldn't stop singing the entire night." He paused and sighed. "I met Sarita in San Diego. She was almost twenty-six, and had a scar over her entire left side from a surfing accident. She said that it made her look ugly… I told her that she was beautiful." Gonzalez turned in amazement. "Jane's favorite book was some John Green book about a bunch of chicks named Katherine or something. She was the first girl in a long time that I actually tried the serious dating thing with. We both hate Rom-Coms or that Nicholas Sparks kind of movie, so we went to see Captain America for our first date. I was thinking about going into the military then, so she called me Cappy or Steve and I called her Peggy."

Gonzalez sat back down across from Dean. "Army?" He asked.

"Marines. My dad was a Marine, so I thought that it would be a good thing to be one too. You know, follow in his footsteps. It was during this time where there wasn't anything happening in my line of work, but my brother needed help, so I forgot about it and moved on. I still regret it. It was a stupid idea, yeah, but I guess I wanted to do _something_ good." Dean reached out his hand for the folder, then flipped through it. "This is real? I… I have kids?" Gonzalez nodded silently. "W… what are their names?"

"… You have two sons, Hector and Timothy. Hector is the oldest one, he's three years old. Your daughter, Ivette, is eight months old. Tim is two years." He paused. "They're great kids. My wife's been taking care of them for the past three weeks while we tracked you down."

Dean leaned back and stared at the smiling women in the photographs, his mind going a million miles an hour. This was all so crazy… He cleared his throat and looked up at Gonzalez's unreadable face. "Can I meet them?" He asked, wetting his lips.

Gonzalez nodded and smiled. "You can see them right now."

Dean immediately stood up. "Well, let's go."

The next few weeks were a blur. Jo and Ellen got involved immediately and moved him to a medium-sized house in the nice, suburb district that normally Dean would have hated. He knew that Cas was helping and was more than glad that his friend had children, and that Charlie wove in and out of her involvement, usually dropping off a goblin blanket or a dragon mobile or something. He met his children; his oldest son had his mom's tan skin and face, but Dean's eyes. His other son looked more like him with his mother's nose and eyes, and his daughter was the spitting image of her mother. They were all so beautiful; the second he saw them, the second that Hector clung to him and said "Will you be my papa?" Dean knew that he never wanted them to ever leave his life.

To be honest, Dean didn't really care what his friends did with his new house – or his new rewards card at the grocery store, or his new healthcare plan, or his new job, or his paperwork for putting Hector in preschool – because at the end of it all, he had three children who adored him, and even though they had their own bedrooms, every night somehow ended with him crashed on the couch with his children all curled up around him.

For the first time in years, Dean slept without any nightmares.

**.**

**I'm sorry for killing Sam, but it's what ended up coming out.**

**I refuse to have Ellen and Jo out of the story, so just imagine that they're alive and well and hovering over Dean like mother hens. And Charlie. Who doesn't love Charlie?**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean Winchester was many things, as he'd discovered over the course of fifteen years.

He was, first and foremost, a hunter. In fact, he was _the_ hunter. Somehow, hunting had been brought to the spotlight in the public's eyes, dragging him unwillingly to the forefront. But instead of panic, excitement and intrigue spread through the world. Monster hunting became a global pastime, quickly brought under control by governments who contacted Dean for advice. (The President of the United States, his Board of Supernatural Beings officer, and the U.N. official all had him on speed dial.) If Sam was still alive, he'd be doing backflips.

He was Dad. And Daddy, and Papa, and Pops, and when Hector was feeling cheeky and wanted to get grounded, Dinosaur Dad, Fossil or "This is my father, the last of the dinosaurs." to which Dean would reply "This is my son, an endangered species." Hector was grounded a lot.

He was one hell of a soccer mom, one that put the neighbors to shame. Ivette was on her school's roller derby team, Tim was in football and track, Hector was in wrestling and weightlifting, and all three were on the same lacrosse team. Other parent praised him as one brave soul for being a single dad, raising children who played six collective sports, and somehow getting them all to practice on time. It was stressful, and Ellen chewed him out nearly every day, but it was worth it to head his kids dubbed The Winchester Devils by their opponents. No one cheered louder than him at the kids's games.

He was that overprotective father who leveled a shotgun at his daughter's first boyfriend, doused him in holy water, and nicked his arm when they'd met. It turned out that the kid wasn't a demon, just a pansy who nearly pissed himself because Dean fucking Winchester had answered the door.

He'd been sober for almost thirteen years now. The kids had even thrown him a party a few months ago.

Timothy was taller than all of them, which irked Hector and Dean to no end. Dean mostly because Tim reminded him of Sam, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think that he was Sam's kid.

He was the father of three honor students who were all in advanced placement with 4.1 GPAs. The counselor had said it was impossible. The kids had said "Screw that, we're Winchesters."

He still had no idea how he'd gotten them past the toddler years, or even into the teen years, for that matter. (Charlie, Jo and Ellen had been invaluable help in child-proofing and babysitting. Once all three were walking, it had been worse than hell, and he'd actually been there.)

He was a pretty damn good scrapbooker, if he could say so himself, and if the photo albums of fifteen-plus years were anything to go by.

He was getting grey hair, a fact that irritated him more than not having pie in the fridge.

All of the kids had inherited his love for pie. (He just hoped they didn't inherit being alcoholics too.)

And right then, he was the proudest he'd ever been in his life, because Hector was graduating from high school with a college degree as a valedictorian.

Hector Marcos Davilla-Winchester was, in a word, a prodigy. When he entered Freshman year in high school, he was accepted into St. John's university and split his time between schools. He was graduating from both with honors and degrees in history and psychology. Hector knew that he'd never been prouder when he got a phone call from his father saying "I am so proud of you, and your uncle would be too." Hector was the first in his family to graduate from college ever since his great-grandfather, and he hoped that he wouldn't be the last.

It was the proudest day in a long time for the Winchester family.

It also became the worst when Dean and Hector got calls from the police saying that Ivette had been kidnapped from school.

.

Hector came screeching around the corner in his father's car and arrived faster than the police. He jumped out without even parking properly just as his father and his uncle, Cas, appeared out of thin air. "Dad!" He barked, sprinting from the parking lot towards his father.

He and Cas wheeled around as Hector came to a stop. "What's happening?" Dean demanded with steel in his eyes. When he was like this, Hector knew that he wasn't Dean's son anymore; he was a soldier.

"I don't know. I just got here."

"Damn it. Come on!" They ran through the wailing sirens (ah, that would be the police) and shoved their way through the barricades and into where the students had been evacuated. "Tim!" He shouted, scanning the terrified mass of hormones for his middle child. "Timothy, it's Dad! _Tim!_"

"Mr. Winchester!" A hand waved, and from the crowd a tiny Freshman girl was produced with wide eyes and a drawn face. Hector recognized her as one of Ivette's friends. "Mr. Winchester, Tim's in the ambulance. He tried to save Evy, a-and he got hurt."

"What was it?" Cas asked her as the three men pulled her aside.

She blinked, then looked around to focus on Hector, who gave her a supporting smile. "I don't know." She squeaked. "We had a visitor for Humanities, and after he gave his presentation he asked for a volunteer. Evy went up, and his eyes went black and he just disappeared with her. Tim tried to grab the gun from the locker – you know, the ones they installed last year for ghosts or something – and the thing just threw him aside and vanished." Her shoulders started shaking, and Hector reached out to pull her into a hug.

"Hey. It's not your fault, kiddo." He soothed, looking up at his father and mouthing 'Demons?' Dean's face tightened, and he stormed towards the ambulance.

Demons. He couldn't even see straight, there was so much rage pumping in his system. There were demons involved, and they had his fucking daughter. She was just a fifteen year old kid! As he made his way to the ambulance, a clean-cut officer stepped in his way. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to-."

"I'm Dean Winchester." He snarled. "That's my son in the ambulance."

The officer straightened up. "I'm sorry, sir. This way."

Timothy was being checked out by a medic, holding a bloody bandage over his side with one hand and breathing in from a nebulizer with the other. His eyes lit up when he saw Dean and Cas approaching. The medic glanced up. "You the father?" He asked, and Dean nodded. "Timothy has a broken ankle, two broken ribs and a nasty gash on his side. He's going to need to-."

"Allow me." Cas stepped forward and placed his hand over Timothy's side.

After the usual glow that demonstrated his Grace, Timothy took off the nebulizer and stood up, the medic's protest silenced in shock. "They have Evy." Tim blurted out. "Dad, I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him, but the teacher didn't have the holy water or devil's trap she was supposed to, and-."

"Tim, it's fine." Dean gave a shaky smile and pulled Tim into a tight hug. "I'm just glad you're safe. Now, did the teacher touch anything in the room?"

"No, she just called 9-1-1 and pulled the alarm. No one's been inside yet, except for the cops."

Dean hadn't been this furious and frustrated and terrified ever since he saw Sammy… God, he couldn't think about that. He was going to find his little girl, and the son-of-a-bitch who was responsible for taking her would regret ever crawling out of Hell.

.

"How's Dad?" Hector demanded the instant Cas materialized in Ellen's front room. He'd been with Dean looking through the classroom for any signs of the demon.

Cas thought for a moment. He really had no idea how to describe Dean at the moment. He'd seen the Righteous Man at his best, and he'd thought he'd seen him at his worst, but he'd obviously been mistaken up until now. "Angry." He finally settled with. "Frightened. Furious. It's… complicated."

"No shit." Hector grumbled before continuing to pace through the front room. "Did he find any clues? Who is this demon and why would he take my baby sister? God damn it!" He finished that sentence with picking up the coffee table and flipping it over.

"Hector Davila-Winchester, you put that back _right now!_" Ellen ordered from the kitchen.

Hector's face melted into a sheepish mask, because Hell hath no fury like Ellen Harvelle. "Sorry, Grandma." He grumbled before setting the table back up and scooting the rug to cover the scuff marks on the floor. "Uncle Cas, please. What've you guys found?"

"Nothing." Cas sighed and sat himself down on a chair. He had many pleasant memories in this room, and how, he had plenty of unpleasant ones. "Whoever this was, he was massively powerful, and he was angry. That's all we could tell."

"Well, that's bullshit." Hector dropped onto the couch.

"Hector!" Cas and Ellen warned at the same time.

"It doesn't matter! Evy's _gone!_" Hector clenched his eyes shut.

"Hector. We're going to find her." Cas promised, even though he knew he had no way to guarantee it. He seemed to be the only one to know that fact. "She's going to be fine. I give you my word."

"I'm gonna hold you to that." Hector smiled tensely before standing up and storming upstairs. "But if you guys don't do anything soon, Tim and I will."

.

Sneaking out of Grandma's house had always been easy, as long as Aunt Jo and/or Aunt Charlie wasn't outside to catch them. Tim was tall enough now to just drop to the ground from the second floor, while Hector still had to scale down the gutter drain. Tim covered his mouth to keep from snickering as Hector shot him a glare.

"_Hijo de puta._" He snapped under his breath. Tim didn't speak Spanish like his brother did, but he knew Hector well enough to know what it was probably a comment about his mother.

"Hec, this is serious." Tim sighed, stowing retorts away for later. "We need to find Evy."

"Shut up, Timmy." Hector scowled and dropped to the ground. From behind his back, he procured their father's hunter's journal and flicked to the back. "Dad didn't write much about this one – can't blame him there – but he said that there was a sulfur trail, he just didn't follow it because he thought he wasn't ready." He snapped it closed and shoved it into his duffel bag, which was filled to the brim with guns, holy water and bullets carved with devil's traps.

"If Dad thought it was too dangerous-." Tim started.

"Oh, be quiet, Moose. Or should I say, _Mouse_." Hector smirked. "It'll be fine. Dad taught us how to hunt, and what would the use be if we didn't ever use it?" Tim sighed, but followed his brother to the car. They didn't dare touch their father's ancient Impala (despite popular belief, they didn't have a death wish, and touching the car that was three times their ages was a one-way ticket to Hell) and instead hijacked their sister's car. Really, it was all of theirs, but she mainly took care of it. It was an old 2012 Chevy truck, but it was still in good shape.

"This is a terrible idea." Tim grumbled as he threw his bag into the truck bed.

"Kids are to be seen and not heard, Moose." Hector gave a lopsided smile and started the car. The Santana CD in the player blasted ear-shatteringly loud music for about three seconds before both Winchester boys slammed it off, exchanging looks. "Well, that could have been dangerous." Hector laughed.

"Shut up and drive, you jackass."

"You know you love me, baby."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

.

"Dean. Wake up."

Dean nearly shot out of his skin and was about to blow a hole in whatever had shaken him awake when he recognized the fallen angel. After more than twenty years of knowing him, Dean still wasn't used to the angel-mojo. "Cas, you scared the shit out of me." He grumbled crossly, jamming the gun back into the side holster draped over the bedpost.

"This isn't the time for your idioms, Dean. We have an emergency."

_What, besides my little girl being kidnapped by the strongest damn demon I've ever seen and spirited away to God knows where? Fan-fucking-tastic._ "What is it?" He asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Hector and Timothy are gone."

Dean snapped from groggy to wide-awake in less than half a second. "What the hell do you mean?!"

"They took a duffel bag and left. I can't sense them because of the sigils we've carved in their ribs, but they took your journal with them."

"_God damn it!_" He shot out of bed and threw on the first clothes he came into contact with. Why in the name of God were his sons so damn impulsive?! He grabbed his prepared duffel and went flying down the stairs, hammering on a bedroom door he passed. "Jo! Kids are in trouble, c'mon!"

**.**

**I couldn't resist making Mini-Winchesters. I'm sorry for hurting you. Here have a hug.**

**While I'm talking, I'm considering this a bit of an AU from Season 8. Cas didn't go so batshit and retained some of his mojo and stayed with the Winchesters as their kind of guardian angel. As for the tablets, I'm working on it.**


	3. Chapter 3

The sulfur trail led from the classroom to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Fort Worth. In about thirty minutes, Hector and Timothy pulled into Cow Town itself and outside of the warehouse that hadn't been used in years. Tim still maintained that this was the worst idea his brother had had since the joyride incident eight years ago, but Hector just told him to shut up and listen to their dad's old cassette collection, quoting the ancient 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole' rule.

"Here." Hector turned off the car and pulled out his gun, loading it with rigged rounds. "Ready, bro?"

"No." Tim grumbled, but took a gun as well and slung the duffel over his shoulders. Being the optimistic one, he had a first-aid kit in case they found their sister.

They clambered out of the car and slipped towards the warehouse, each taking one side of the massive door. The silence was almost tangible. It reminded Hector of his first hunt with his dad. It had been impromptu, but it had helped. It was a vampire who was a survivor of a coven Dean had annihilated before Hector was born, and it was trying to hunt him down. Hector had killed it himself, the first time he ever held a gun loaded with dead man's blood darts, a trick his dad said he learned from an old friend. But this silence seemed heavier, more serious, because there was so much more on the line. The air was filled with dust that hadn't been disturbed in years, until he came to the center of the room, where there were signs of a struggle, and a half-written sentence.

"_HEC TIM CRO_" and the rest was scratched out.

His heart lurched. It was Evy, it had to be. "Tim?" He called in the lowest voice he could, even though it still sounded like an explosion of sound. "Look at this."

Tim appeared out of the shadows in a crouched position, his finger hovering over the trigger. He raised an eyebrow, and Hector gestured to the words on the floor. Tim's face tightened in obvious anger as he moved to the other side of the struggle area. They looked at each other and nodded, spreading out again. Tim could feel his pulse in his ears, just from the sheer idea of some demon manhandling his sister like he could tell happened. He was usually the calm one, but this was…

And then he saw the sigil.

It was a sigil painted in what looked like blood. Tim whistled and crouched down, examining the familiar sigil. It was painted on the wall with a mortar and pestle in front of it with the still-smoking remains of… something. Hector came trotting around the corner, then stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Journal." Tim ordered without looking up, and Hector acknowledged his brother's superiority in this field and dug out the journal, tossing it over.

"What is it?" Hector asked, crouching down next to Tim.

"I don't know." Tim's brow knitted together as he settled on his haunches, trying to decipher his father's notes. "But it has an incantation here. I… holy shit. Hec, this is blood!"

"Whose blood?" Hector's eye sparked. "Tim, if you don't tell me right now, I swear to God-!"

"Shut up." He growled, grinding his teeth. "I… if this was demons taking Evy, then… then it's her blood."

Hector hissed in anger and stood up, moving to work the rage out of his system. He paced back and forth for a few minutes before his patience snapped and he grabbed the duffels before he returned to where Tim was now intensely studying a small paragraph. "What's that?"

"I think it's the incantation to activate the sigil." He wet his lips and looked up at his brother. "What should we do? We have no idea what it does or-."

"Tim, if this demon took our sister, and this sigil has something to do with it, then we need to follow her, no matter what." He set his hand on Tim's shoulder. "Do it. Or, if you don't want to, I will-."

"Fat chance, your Latin sounds like Korean with the flu." He snatched the journal back and sighed, swiping the sweat back from his forehead. Closing his eyes, he started to chant.

.

Jaime Gonzalez was asleep and happily at home in bed when his private cell phone started ringing.

Only a few people had that number, and if any of them were calling at – he glanced at the clock and groaned – two-thirty in the goddamn morning, it was probably important. If not, then he'd lose his temper, because he was _not_ one to be woken up.

He grabbed the cell phone and flipped it open. "Si, bueno?" He grumbled.

"Jaime! It's Dean!"

Gonzalez opened his eyes and sat up. "Winchester. Uh, what's going on? Do you know what time it is-?"

"The kids are missing. Evy was kidnapped earlier, and we think it's demons."

A chill ran down Gonzalez's spine. Even after years, he wasn't used to what Dean did for a living, after twice as many years of being a superstitious man. "Are you sure?" He asked, leaving the bedroom and going into the kitchen. He should probably start making coffee. It was gonna be a long day. "Why are you calling me-?"

"Hec and Tim went after her. They stole my journal and went after the demon earlier, and now they're in the old Hostess warehouse in Fort Worth."

Gonzalez cursed and grabbed his jacket. Coffee be damned, there were kids in danger, and they were his godchildren, to boot. "When? What do you need?"

"Call everyone you can, we have to get there before them. This demon is a strong son-of-a-bitch, they can't go up against it alone. Jo and I are on our way already."

"Good. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Jaime, ten minutes, and they'll be dead!"

.

Dean came to a screeching halt in front of the abandoned warehouse and leaped out, not even turning off the ignition. "_HECTOR!_" He bellowed, seeing the boys's car. He sprinted as fast as he could towards the warehouse, ignoring his joints screaming in pain. _Not today, Arthritis. Please, not today._

He burst in and immediately spotted an angel warding sigil. With a sweep of his arm, he wiped it off of the glass and stepped back. Cas instantly materialized, a harrowed expression that made Dean's heart stop on his face. "Gonzalez is on his way with the police." He said quickly. "But the boys are-."

"_TIM!_" Dean took off running again, seeing a glow and hearing low Latin being chanted.

Hector's eyes widened, entranced at the power his brother's words held. He tightened his hands – one on the duffels, the other on Tim's shoulder – and watched as the sigil started to grow. He smelled ozone, and felt prickling down his skin.

Dean stumbled around the corner to see his sons staring at the sigil, Tim chanting quickly. "_NO!_" He ran towards them as fast as he could. Hector looked up and his eyes widened, but the next instant, they disappeared in a blinding flash of light. Dean's yells were lost as he leapt towards them, only to land on the concrete in front of the now-dark sigil.

Jo came running when she heard Dean screaming, then stopped when she saw him slumped on the ground. "Dean!" She trotted to his side, her gun at the ready. She set her hand on his shoulder, raising an eyebrow when he recoiled like he'd been burned. "Dean… what happened?"

"I couldn't stop them." His voice sounded broken. He looked up at Jo, and she stepped back. He had tears welling in his eyes. "They're gone, Jo. They went through the sigil. I don't know where."

Sirens filled the warehouse, Jaime Gonzalez at the forefront. They came in to see Jo holding Dean as he damned himself for not being just a little bit faster. Castiel watched this unfold, then disappeared with a rush of feathers.

.

The first thing that Hector realized was that he was falling. And falling fast.

The second thing was when his ass hit hard asphalt and the sunlight seared his eyes, followed by squealing tires and slamming doors; _this probably isn't the warehouse, and that probably isn't Evy._

The third came in the form of the sound of a gun being loaded; _oh, shit. That's not good._

"Get up." A voice ordered, and Hector cracked open his eyes. He saw a vast expanse of blue skies above him; he was lying eagle-spread in the middle of a road with the duffels still in his hand. He looked to his right and saw that Tim was unconscious. Then he looked up and nearly had a heart attack.

"Who are you?" A young Dean Winchester demanded, his gun jammed in Hector's face. "You'd better start talking, buddy."

_Fuck a duck. What just happened?_

Hector slowly raised his hands and stood up. "My name is Hector Davilla." He said, feeling naked without the 'Winchester' at the end of his name. But until he realized what was going on, he couldn't tell this… clone of his dad or whatever what he was Dean Winchester's son. It wasn't safe.

"And why the hell did you just fall from the sky, _Hector?_ Speaking of which, why aren't you dead? I'm pretty sure you should be a pancake right now."

"Look. I don't know what happened, but I'm pretty sure it's important." He jutted his chin at Tim. "He's my brother. We're hunters."

Dean scoffed, glancing over this Hector guy. He looked like he'd been teethed on a silver spoon. "Yeah, right." He said patronizingly. "Why should I believe you?"

"Just listen, okay? Tim and I are hunters. Well, we're being trained by our dad, and he's the best. And we're looking for our little sister, Ivette. She was kidnapped from school by something; our dad said it was demons."

"Demons?" Dean's brow furrowed even more. "Kid, you look like you're fresh out of your training diapers. What the hell would a demon want with your sister? And why would you be going after it?"

Hector had no idea how irritating his father could be until he was a stranger to him. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep calm. "I don't know. I just know that my baby sister is in danger and my dad said that it was too dangerous to do anything about, so Tim and I grabbed his journal and we followed the sulfur trail. Tim found this sigil in a warehouse and started the incantation we found in Dad's journal, and next thing I know, I'm flat on my ass with you pointing a gun in my face."

"Dean." Sam came trotting out of the woods before Dean could reply. Hector's face changed, only slightly. He recognized that man from old pictures; he was his Uncle Sam! _Jesus fucking Christ, what's going on? He's dead!_ "I searched the woods. Nothing." He glanced at Hector. "Whoever he is, he's clean as far as getting here. What did you get from him?"

"He says that he and his brother are hunters looking for their sister." Dean made sure his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Personally, I think he's a jackass who's hiding something."

Hector moved to grab his wallet without thinking, then froze as two guns were pointed at his face. "Relax. I'm grabbing the evidence." He pulled out the wallet and pulled out the photos of him, Tim and Evy that he always kept, hiding the ones including his dad or aunts or uncle. He handed the photos over to Dean – or mini-Dean, or whatever – and watched as he sifted through them. "The girl's Evy." He said. "She's fifteen years old. She was going to class, and I had just called my dad to tell him that I was graduating valedictorian, when we got calls from the police saying that she'd been kidnapped, and it was our kind of deal."

Dean's eyes snapped up from the photos. "And how would the police know what 'your deal' is if you're a hunter?"

"Hunting is kind of a big deal worldwide. Look at the dates on the photos."

Dean narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue and flipped over one. His comment died in his throat as he read what was written. " 'Hector, Tim and Evy at Lake Lewisville, 2025'." He said softly before looking up with his eyebrows raised. "… You're from the future."

Hector shrugged. "I guess. What year is it?"

"It's 2013." Sam answered, staring between the photo and the boy standing in front of him. "I… look, how do we know this isn't a setup?"

Hector's patience snapped as he groaned. "_You_ look. I don't have time for this. It's been more than twelve hours since Evy was snatched, and each second I'm wasting is another second that my little sister, who I swore to our parents I would protect with my life, could be getting killed. Believe me or not, but in about sixty seconds, I'm gone."

"No, you're not." Dean quickly stepped towards him, and Hector instinctively ducked and planted an open-palmed blow on his chest, jumping back quickly. Dean only staggered a few steps, but a light entered his eyes that Hector recognized from his sparring sessions with his Dad. _Oh, fuck._ "So that's how it is, huh?"

"Look. I don't want-." He ducked under a fist and danced to the side. "-to fight. I just want to get out of here, okay? So just-." He rolled and jumped, landing on his feet. "-stop, and we'll make up and part as unlikely friends. How's that-?" That time, he wasn't as fast, and got a fist to the nose. Pain blossomed through his face, but he shook his head and growled, resisting the urge to fling himself at Dean. Lesson one learned through Winchester sparring; throwing yourself blindly into a fight with Dean Winchester will leave you looking like you've been through the meat grinder. "Nice punch." He spat blood on the ground. "Real horrorshow. But like I said-."

Out of nowhere, Tim loomed up in front of him. "And just what are you doing to my brother?" He growled in an uncharacteristically threatening voice.

"Tim, chill out." Hector put his hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to get him to listen. "Tim. Hey, Moose." He whistled, and Tim's attention snapped to him. "Let's just calm down, okay? It was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding, my ass." Tim grumbled, but he relaxed and glared warily at Dean. "Hec, who is this?"

"This is…" He raised an eyebrow at Sam and Dean.

"… I'm Dean. This is my brother, Sam." Dean jerked his thumb at Sam, scanning the pair of younger brothers. They really reminded him of someone… Well, the Tim guy looked like he could be Sammy's kid, which wasn't out of the question if they really were from the future.

Tim glanced back at Hector, who nodded. "I'm Timothy Birdsong. I'm Hector's brother."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "… Interesting last name."

Tim laughed and crossed his arms. "My mom was from a reservation. With a family like mine, I'm practically going to college for free."

"Yeah, and I had to work for it." Hector smacked the back of his head before clapping his hands together. "Well. Nice meeting you, but we should really get going-."

"You're not going anywhere, man." Dean stepped in immediately. "Look, no matter how you twist it, we have more experience with hunting that you two. So, if your sister really was kidnapped-."

"She was." Hector and Timothy snapped together.

"-then we'll help you find her and kill the son of a bitch who took her. Sound good?"

Tim swung Hector around to the front and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Sure. Sounds great." He had to bite off the 'Dad' at the end of the sentence. He and Hector were going to be having a very long, very serious discussion about what the hell was going on later.


End file.
